


Duties and Rewards

by LeapAngstily



Category: Football RPF
Genre: Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Riccardo's questionable leadership methods, Unapologetic misuse of shower rooms
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-24
Updated: 2014-02-24
Packaged: 2018-01-13 14:12:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,904
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1229431
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LeapAngstily/pseuds/LeapAngstily
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Riccardo promised Giampaolo some congratulatory sex if he scored in the game. He did not score, but Riccardo is nothing if not generous.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Duties and Rewards

**Author's Note:**

> Some celebratory post-match Pazzolivo porn after Milan beat Sampdoria, just because I can.

The soft mist of running showers is filling the room, fogging the half-transparent panels between the shower booths. Happy banter, laughter, everything you could expect from a victorious team on a post-match high.  
  
Giampaolo is pissed off though – not because they beat his old team, of course not, but because he could not score against them.  
  
Riccardo had promised a congratulatory fuck if he scored, and fucking Riccardo is something Giampaolo is not used to passing by. The opportunities have become disappointingly rare in the past months, Riccardo too occupied with his captain-y responsibilities to fulfil his boyfriend-y duties.  
  
Giampaolo had complained about the recent lack of Ricky-loving after the lost match against Atletico, but Riccardo had just huffed and asked what they were doing at the moment.  
  
Fair enough, really. Maybe Giampaolo should have picked a moment when he did not have his hands down Riccardo’s pants.  
  
Riccardo had promised him a reward for every goal he scored, though, and Giampaolo had failed to deliver.  
  
Giampaolo is scrubbing his skin furiously under the steaming shower, too occupied with his own thoughts to notice his teammates have all trickled out of the shower room, replaced by their captain’s lone presence.  
  
He is startled out of his thoughts only when Riccardo slips into the same booth as him in all his naked glory, pressing up against his back and nibbling the back of his neck playfully.  
  
“You should stop scrubbing so hard. You’re gonna peel the skin off one of these days,” he tuts softly into Giampaolo’s ear, “And I happen to like your skin.”  
  
Giampaolo can feel Riccardo’s cock against his backside, fully hard already, and his own body is eagerly responding to the contact.  
  
“But I didn’t score,” he argues even as he pushes back against Riccardo’s body, “We’re gonna get caught here.”  
  
“No we won’t. Igna is keeping an eye on the door,” Riccardo replies easily as he wraps his arms around Giampaolo’s hips, teasing the tops of his thighs, careful not to touch his growing erection.  
  
Giampaolo is not sure if the comment is supposed to make him feel better. Fucking Riccardo and his minions. If Seedorf only knew where his club captain puts all his leadership skills—  
  
“What’s the point of promising me a reward if you’re gonna give it to me even if I fail?” Giampaolo still has his pride, and Riccardo is stomping all over it right at this moment.  
  
“What’s the point of having a boyfriend if I can’t touch him whenever the fuck I want?”  
  
He has a point, and Giampaolo is too turned on to argue it any further. He turns around on the spot, now face to face with Riccardo’s victorious smile, and pulls him into an open-mouthed kiss to wipe away the smug expression. Riccardo meets him halfway, his tongue tangling with Giampaolo’s.  
  
They fit together like pieces of a puzzle, and their cocks are aligned perfectly as Riccardo rolls his amazing hips against Giampaolo’s, letting out a satisfied hum against his lips.  
  
“Of course, I could just take a shower and let you take care of your little problem on your own,” Riccardo teases as he pulls away from the kiss, ghosting his lips only inches from Giampaolo’s.  
  
Giampaolo growls aloud and attempts to pull Riccardo back into another kiss but the slippery bastard is too fast, ducking out of his grasp and fully under the warm stream of water. He throws a look at Giampaolo, one eyebrow raised, obviously challenging him.  
  
Fucking Riccardo. Giampaolo never asked for this.  
  
“You’re the worst boyfriend ever,” he whines as Riccardo starts rubbing soap on himself, hands travelling over every enticing line and curve of his body.  
  
Riccardo’s cock is still fully hard, a beautiful curve jutting against his belly. Giampaolo wants to touch it, but he knows Riccardo will be insufferable for days if he gives in this easily.  
  
“You’re loving it,” Riccardo retorts, unashamedly eyeing Giampaolo’s erection that grows even harder under the appreciative look.  
  
Giampaolo has no arguments there: Riccardo is the most beautiful thing Giampaolo has ever laid his eyes on, and in the low lighting of the steamy shower room he looks almost otherworldly. It is physically impossible for him to look away now.  
  
Riccardo takes his sweet time rinsing off the remains of the soap – Giampaolo’s, because the lazy bastard never bothers to bring his own – before he finally reaches down for his erection.  
  
The breath might have hitched in Giampaolo’s throat as he looks at Riccardo grasping his own cock, caressing the length slowly before pressing his thumb against the sensible tip.  
  
Riccardo moans out loud, no doubt for Giampaolo’s benefit more than his own, half-lidded eyes searching his, the light blue looking almost grey through the long lashes and the mist in the air.  
  
Giampaolo swallows hard and it feels like the sound is impossibly loud in the silent room, almost deafening over the constant sound of falling water.  
  
Riccardo throws his head back, exposing his long neck, letting the water fall over his face, laughing under the warm stream. He is not laughing at Giampaolo – he is laughing because he is happy and content right here, together with Giampaolo, the adrenaline of the victory still rushing through his veins.  
  
Giampaolo knows this because he has known Riccardo since they were children, long before he understood why Riccardo’s laughter made him feel so warm and kind of funny inside.  
  
Riccardo is picking up his pace, the strokes on his cock stronger and faster, more deliberate. His hips are moving in rhythm with his jerks, and his laughter has transformed into laboured breaths, his lips parted just slightly.  
  
Giampaolo cannot take it anymore, not when Riccardo’s eyes drop closed and he can practically see his orgasm approaching.  
  
“Let me,” he whispers, his voice barely audible, and he closes the small distance between them again, covers Riccardo’s hand with his own to stop his movements.  
  
Riccardo complies easily, letting go and lifting his hands to Giampaolo’s shoulders to caress the back of his neck gently, “Took you long enough.”  
  
“Gotta make you work for your reward,” he shrugs in feigned nonchalance.  
  
“Don’t you mean  _your_  reward?”  
  
Riccardo’s impish tone is swallowed into a surprised gasp as Giampaolo presses up against him, their cocks pressed together in his hand. He leans in to kiss Riccardo’s neck, to taste that beautiful pale skin right below his ear.  
  
“I’m gonna kill you if you leave a mark again,” Riccardo warns him, but his loving tone does not match the danger in the words at all. His fingers are playing with Giampaolo’s short hair, pulling him closer, and he cranes his neck to allow him more leverage.  
  
Giampaolo answers by sucking harder, doing his best to leave his mark. He is glad he does not bruise as easily as Riccardo, who would be more than happy to return the favour otherwise.  
  
He tightens his hold on their aligned cocks and lets Riccardo buck himself into his grip, setting the tempo as he gets closer and closer to his orgasm.  
  
“Fuck,” Riccardo gasps, tugging on Giampaolo’s hair to keep him close, as he finally stills and his seed spills on Giampaolo’s hand in short spurts. Giampaolo does not stop fondling Riccardo before his cock has grown soft against his.  
  
The shower stream has washed away the remains of cum by the time Giampaolo lets go and reaches for Riccardo’s hair instead, threading his fingers through the soft strands, and pulls him into a gentle kiss, just his lips pressed on Riccardo’s.  
  
Giampaolo is still painfully hard, but he allows Riccardo a moment to catch his breath, knowing Riccardo has never left him unsatisfied for long.  
  
He is not disappointed, as Riccardo breaks the kiss after a while and glances down at his erection.  
  
“So, still think you don’t deserve it?”  
  
“Fuck off, Ricky,” Giampaolo’s reply is delivered in his most affectionate tone, and he is rewarded by Riccardo kissing his way down his chest and to his awaiting cock, “God, yes.”  
  
“God’s not available. Wanna leave a message?” Riccardo looks up at him through his lashes, running just one finger over the straining erection, and blows a puff of air at the tip.  
  
“Just that if my cocktease of an atheist boyfriend does not stop playing around soon enough, he can feel free to strike him down with a lightning bolt or something,” he grits out, bucking his hips forwards.  
  
“Dunno if you’re talking about the right god here,” Riccardo sniggers and Giampaolo would kick him if it would not mean losing his chance for a blowjob.  
  
He opens his mouth to tell Riccardo to hurry up, but before he can get a word out of his mouth, Riccardo presses a kiss at the tip of his erection before taking it in his mouth carefully.  
  
Riccardo focuses on the tip with his lips and tongue, savouring the taste while stroking the length with his hand. He is going slow on purpose, a bit too slow for Giampaolo’s liking, but he knows Riccardo hates being rushed when he is doing this.  
  
Riccardo is fondling his balls with his other hand, before he reaches out behind them, running a finger between Giampaolo’s buttocks until he finds his entrance.  
  
Giampaolo tenses up a little, but Riccardo does not try to push his finger in, not without anything to ease the intrusion. Instead, he rubs the puckered entrance with his fingers in time with his sucks on his cock.  
  
He is speeding up, taking more of Giampaolo into his mouth with every suck, tightening his grasp on the rest of the length. When he looks up at Giampaolo, his blue eyes shining with so much feeling, it becomes all too much and Giampaolo comes into his mouth with such force he cannot remember experiencing before.  
  
Riccardo swallows his cum with practiced ease before letting go of his softening cock. He stands up to come face to face with Giampaolo, smiling at him impishly.  
  
“You thought I was really gonna fuck you.”  
  
Giampaolo rolls his eyes, though the effect is not quite as powerful because he is still trying to get his breathing under control, “The thought did cross my mind, yes.”  
  
“And you were gonna let me do it,” Riccardo is sounding triumphant.  
  
Giampaolo can understand him: it would not be the first time Riccardo topped him, but it is certainly not an everyday occurrence. Giampaolo is fairly sure it has more to do with Riccardo preferring to bottom than Giampaolo’s own preferences, but it is still the pattern they have fallen into.  
  
“Maybe later tonight? We’ve got tomorrow off anyways, so there’s no harm in it.”  
  
Riccardo kisses him again, and Giampaolo can taste his own cum on Riccardo’s tongue.  
  
When they make it out of the showers, the dressing room is empty bar Ignazio who has his headphones on to block out the unwanted sounds. He makes a face at them but waits until they get dressed anyways.  
  
“You done?” he asks Riccardo who skips over to him with an unworried laugh and follows him to his car that will take them back to Milan.  
  
He waves at Giampaolo one last time, mouthing ‘later’ to him with a gleeful glint in his eyes. Giampaolo fights the urge to roll his eyes as he makes his way to his own car.  
  
Fucking Riccardo and his minions, indeed.


End file.
